


cross my heart, won't tell no other

by lco123



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, folklore inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: A series of folklore inspired mini-fics. Pre-, during, and post-series, not necessarily connected.
Relationships: Alison DiLaurentis/Emily Fields, Spencer Hastings/Hanna Marin, mentions of others - Relationship
Comments: 33
Kudos: 33





	1. the 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is it any great surprise that I'm writing a folklore inspired series of PLL mini-fics? Taylor Swift's new album is a highlight of a terrible year, and it has inspired me for the first time in a while. 
> 
> Not perfect but just trying to get some stuff out. We'll see how long I can keep this project going!

**_But we were something, don't you think so?_ **

**_Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool_ **

**_And if my wishes came true_ **

**_It would've been you_**

Paige would be lying if she said she didn’t think about what it could have been like.

Of course, it never would have worked. The three of them raising Alison’s babies. Emily’s babies. All in one big house, like a lesbian version of _Big Love_? No thanks. Paige has had enough complication for one lifetime.

But there are moments, when Paige is feeling particularly nostalgic—when she’s in a hotel room flipping through channels and _Rudy_ comes on, or when she stumbles across the framed Sharks team photo that she can’t bear to put on her mantle but also can’t bear to part with, or when she sees a family with two moms out in the world—and her heart will squeeze tight, and she’ll let herself yearn for what could have been.

Waking up next to Emily every morning. The two of them driving home from school together, picking the girls up from Pam’s house in a flurry of hugs and excitement. Feeling strong arms around her waist while standing in their kitchen, a flash of dark hair and a press of warm skin and a whispered, “I love you.” Sometimes she even dreams of it, the images rosy and Instagram-perfect.

But Alison would be there. And as much as Paige has grown, as much grace as she was able to extend to Alison in her final moments in Rosewood, there’s no reality where having Alison around is part of her fantasy. And if she’s being truly, brutally honest with herself, she knows that even if Alison wasn’t physically there, she always would be for Emily. Alison would always be the glamorous ghost haunting their relationship, whether present or not, no matter how many times Emily might have insisted that Paige was the one.

So Paige lets the fantasy drift away. She goes back to her life, back to reality. She stops dreaming of Rosewood and of Emily. She grows up. Until eventually it doesn’t hurt so bad. She can think about Emily without wanting to cry.

One day she sends Emily a friend request on Facebook, and Emily accepts it.

That night she has one last dream about Emily. They’re standing on either side of a river, but it's is too loud to hear over, so Emily merely waves at Paige.

Paige smiles, and waves back across the water.


	2. cardigan

_**And when I felt like I was an old cardigan** _

_**Under someone's bed** _

_**You put me on and said I was your favorite**_

Their daughter laughs like Hanna.

Caleb doesn’t really notice it until Maddy is three, long after the ink has dried on his and Hanna’s divorce papers. He has Maddy for the weekend, and the two of them are at the park. She keeps asking him to push her higher on the swing, and when he unexpectedly gives her an underdog, Maddy lets out a shriek of delighted laughter that nearly knocks the wind out of him.

It’s Hanna’s laugh. He lived for that sound in high school. They barely knew each other before he became addicted to Hanna’s laugh, would do or say anything for her to make that sound. Wild and free and happy.

As the years wore on, as she drifted away from him and he tried in all the wrong ways to hold her close, he heard her laugh less and less. By the time she filed for divorce, he could barely remember the last time he’d seen her smile.

But man, when he was young, that laugh had made him feel invincible. Like he could do anything. Kind of like how he feels right now, with Maddy begging him to, “Do it again, Daddy!”

So he does. And when she laughs again, he laughs with her.


	3. the last great american dynasty

**_I had a marvelous time ruining everything_ **

Aria gets a lot of money in the divorce. Like, _a lot_ a lot.

She wasn’t angling for it, even though she knows that’s how the story will get told. But Diane Fitzgerald never met a problem that she didn’t think money could fix, and apparently Aria presented like a big problem. All because she was tired of dealing with Ezra’s insecurity and childishness and constant belittling of her feelings.

Well, good riddance. That’s what Hanna says at the massive party she insists on throwing the day Aria signs the papers.

After the divorce, Aria doesn’t know what to do with herself. She suddenly has millions of dollars and absolutely no life plan. She hasn’t sold a book in years, has been too busy tending to Ezra’s wounds every time he got a rejection letter. And now whenever she sits down to write, she hears his voice in her head, a constant critique. Explaining how her characters are too emotional, too frivolous, too flawed.

The only thing that seems to quiet the voice is doing something with her hands, so she takes up pottery. Again. The clay is a heavy comfort in her hands, a tactile recognition of how far she’s come.

The other thing that quiets the voice is spending money, so she does. A lot of it. Designer bags and shoes, intricate toys flown in from Paris for her friends’ daughters, a ludicrously expensive teacup dog that she takes to carrying around in a purse. The dog accompanies her on trips to Athens and Budapest and Sidney.

And charities. More than she can count, helping anyone who needs it, though with a particular focus on survivors of sexual violence. She’ll spend hours reading their stories online, sobbing into her dog’s fur, then anonymously donating more money than she used to make in a given year.

None of it fixes anything, Aria knows. She still has lots of work to do, on herself and for the world. It isn’t therapy, not by a long shot.

But knowing that his family’s money is being spent to make others’ lives a little better helps her sleep easier at night. And knowing that it’s making her life a little more fun and frivolous?

Well, that’s just icing on the cake.


	4. exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to take place around 5B, when Ali is suspected of killing Mona.

_**You're not my homeland anymore**_  
_**So what am I defending now?** _  
_**You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out**_

Emily wants to believe Alison more than anything.

That’s what makes it hurt so much, that’s what makes her so angry with herself. The fact that after everything, she wants Alison to be telling the truth. To be walking alongside them, not twelve steps ahead. To be holding Emily’s hand in a room in front of all of their friends.

Emily wants Alison more than she’s ever wanted anyone. Hugging Alison after all that time, Emily swore she’d never lose her again. She’d close her eyes and cover her ears forever if it meant that she could still be Ali’s knight in shining armor.

But Alison might have _killed_ someone. Not just anyone; she might have killed Mona. And maybe there’s some dark, screwed up part of Emily that could forgive that if it was just her heart to consider, but it isn’t. Emily would never be able to look Hanna in the eyes again if she overlooked this. It’s Hanna’s turn to be the widow, and Emily has to stand by her side.

She understands what matters. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less to turn her back on Alison.


	5. my tears ricochet

_**And if I'm dead, why are you at the wake?** _

_**Cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed** _

When Charlotte gets home, Melissa is sitting at the kitchen table, stone-faced.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks, rushing over. Something’s happened to Spencer, there’s been another text, another murder…

“It’s your father,” Melissa tells her. “Alison tried to call you, but you didn’t have your phone—”

Charlotte’s habit of forgetting her phone is a new one. At first it was an intentional part of her therapy, to form a healthy detachment to technology. Now it’s become second nature.

“Is my dad dead?” Charlotte asks.

Melissa nods and pulls her close. “What do you want to do?”

For once, Charlotte doesn’t have the answer right away. She doesn’t cry, but she lets herself be held by Melissa, lets herself be taken care of. They call Alison and Jason together. Neither one of them wants a service, but they all want to see each other.

Melissa holds Charlotte’s hand the whole way to Rosewood. The house belongs to Alison and Emily now, but it still feels a little haunted. Or at least Charlotte thinks that until her nieces clamor down the stairs and she gathers them up in her arms. Alison and Melissa hug, friends—or something like that—after all these years.

At dinner Charlotte raises her glass. “A toast,” she proposes.

Jason is aghast. “Not for that piece of—”

“No, not for him,” Charlotte clarifies. “For us. For surviving him. For coming out the other side.”

Alison smiles. “I’ll drink to that.”

Charlotte is certain that the sound of their cheers lets the last ghost float free.


	6. mirrorball

_**And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why** _   
_**I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try** _   
_**I'm still on that trapeze** _   
_**I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me**_

The rush of being ‘A’ is unlike anything Mona has ever known. The rush of being able to torment Hanna and her friends when she’s ‘A’ _and_ when they know it’s her? Unmatched.

It makes her a little hot, to be perfectly honest. Pushing Emily to blackmail their vice principal. Prodding at Aria’s Fitz obsession during the school play. Making Spencer want to tear her hair out at the fashion show.

But nothing beats the time she spends with Hanna. As Mona, as ‘A’: she savors every minute of it. Hanna is her favorite doll to play with. An Alison who loves her. The perfect toy.

It’s complicated. Even Mona, with her incredible brain, can’t always figure it out. Why she loves Hanna so much that she wants to hurt her. Why her dreams are filled with images of kissing Hanna hard enough to leave a bruise. Why it's easier to drive a car over Hanna than tell her.

Tell her, tell her. Who Mona is. What Mona is. All of it. All of her.

 _Never._ That wasn’t even an option.

So Mona pushes past that feeling. She summons her strength. She tugs on her hoodie, her suit of armor. Prepares for another battle. Prepares to win again.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-series.

_**And I’ve been meaning to tell you** _

_**I think your house is haunted** _

_**Your dad is always mad and that must be why** _

_**And I think you should come live with me** _

_**And we can be pirates** _

_**Then you won’t have to cry** _

_**Or hide in the closet**_

With Alison, every day is an opportunity for adventure.

Like when she flashes her fake ID at the movie theater and they spend the day watching R-rated movies. They have similar taste, so it works out. Aria likes French cinema because the sadness of it makes her chest feel full; Alison likes it for the sex.

Another afternoon Alison convinces Aria to dye her hair pink. She even helps talk Ella into it, though it doesn’t take much convincing. Alison picks out the dye and spreads it across Aria’s hair. They’re so close in Aria’s bathroom that she can count Alison’s eyelashes, can smell her gardenia perfume mixed with the scent of late summer sweat.

“I should do your hair, too,” Aria offers once a stripe of her dark hair is officially pink.

“I don’t want that cheap dye on my scalp,” Alison replies. When Aria is quiet, she adds, “Give me a braid.”

They’re in Aria’s bedroom now, and Alison lays her head in Aria’s lap. It’s weirdly intimate, and also not the ideal position for braiding hair, but Aria doesn’t say anything.

Halfway through Alison reaches a hand up and takes Aria’s chin in her hands, forcing their eyes to meet. Aria’s breath gets shallow. She has no idea what Ali will do. Alison seems capable of just about anything.

“You’re so pretty,” Ali whispers, her grip tightening like she might just try to take Aria’s face for herself. “It’s annoying.”

“I’m…sorry?” Aria offers.

“Never apologize.”

Ali sits up then, despite her half-braided hair, and pulls Aria’s chin in closer until they’re kissing. It sends shockwaves through Aria’s entire body. This isn’t her first kiss, but it’s nothing like what she’s experienced before.

When they pull apart Alison’s eyes are wide open. She smacks her lips together. “I bet your lipgloss looks better on me.”

Aria lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

That night Alison spends the night. She doesn’t want to go home, Aria realizes. Which is not the same thing as her wanting to be with Aria.

But when Alison’s breath ghosts over the back of Aria’s neck, it doesn’t really matter.


	8. august

_**But I can see us lost in a memory** _

_**August slipped away into a moment in time** _

_**'Cause it was never mine** _

Shana knows—she _knows_ —that Alison isn’t hers. Ali is a friend, a confidant. She’ll drift in for the summer, all blonde hair and big sunglasses and stories that even she knows sound fantastical.

And then come September she’s gone. Back to her life and her friends. Her _real_ friends.

Shana knows this, but it’s easy to forget. Alison carries so much light within her that everyone else seems dull by comparison. She can flash a smile, crook a finger, and Shana is there, no questions asked.

Which is not to say that Shana can’t see right through Alison. Ali’s stories are paper thin, her excuses often weak and her justifications sound like they’ve been ripped from a bad screenplay. But that’s part of her charm. When Shana sees those flashes of Ali’s soft underbelly, her heart jolts.

The first time they have sex is in Alison’s bedroom at her grandmother’s house. Shana’s never been with anyone before, but she doesn’t tell Alison that. She doesn’t need to hand Ali any more potential ammunition. Already Shana has given too much of herself away.

It doesn’t matter, though. She falls harder every time after that.

When Alison leaves at the end of the summer, Shana doesn’t ask when she’ll be back. It’ll be next summer, or it won’t be; Alison’s been acting weird, she’s started talking about running away. Nothing is a guarantee, and Shana doesn’t get to make assumptions.

She refuses to cry, so she bites down hard on the inside of her cheek.

By the time Alison is out of sight, Shana’s mouth is full of blood.


	9. this is me trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the series finale, but slightly different.

_**I've been having a hard time adjusting** _

_**I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting** _

_**I didn't know if you'd care if I came back** _

_**I have a lot of regrets about that** _

The fight is loud.

Mona tries to tune it out, to press a pillow over her ears and not let her mind catch hold of any words, because she wants to be better, truly she does, and she’s spent enough of her life already listening in on other people’s conversations.

But this isn’t a conversation. It’s a full on argument, and it’s about her.

Caleb is mad that she’s here, which isn’t a surprise. What is a surprise is the way Hanna defends her, voice fierce and unwavering. Telling him that Mona belongs here.

“She killed someone, Hanna!” he shouts.

“She did it to protect us!”

“She did it for herself. Because every time she saves you, she gets to—”

“To what?"

Caleb doesn’t have the answer, or he can’t bear to say it.

“I’m sleeping at Toby’s tonight.”

Mona lies very still and pretends to be asleep, but soon Hanna is at her feet.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” Hanna asks. Now her voice is small, tears threatening to break through.

Mona sits up. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say what for. It’s too big to cover in one night.

_I’m sorry you’re fighting about me._

_I’m sorry I hurt someone._

_I’m sorry I loved you so much that I couldn’t tell you no and I went back into the game and I came out like this._

_I’m sorry because I’m not sorry; I would do it all again for you in a heartbeat._

Hanna sinks into the couch beside her. “I’m sorry, too.”

The loft is dark. Mona watches Hanna’s shadow shift closer before she feels Hanna’s body against her. A weight on her shoulder. A reminder of what it’s all for.

Mona takes a breath. “Han, I—”

“I’m pregnant.”

It's like someone's dropped a 400 pound dumbbell on her chest. “Oh.”

Hanna twists to face her, eyes filled with tears. “It’ll be okay, right?”

Mona nods, slipping on the mask of a smile. “Of course. I’m so happy for you.”

Hanna falls asleep not long after. Mona’s lie is the perfect lullaby.


	10. illicit affairs

_**Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"** _

_**Look at this idiotic fool that you made me** _

_**You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else** _

“Aria?” her therapist prompts. “What’s on your mind this morning?”

It’s a worthwhile question. Though this is only her third session, Aria’s been uncharacteristically quiet.

She sighs. Fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I officially got divorced one year ago today.”

Her therapist sits back. “Wow. That’s a pretty significant milestone. How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know. I keep forgetting he isn’t in my life.” It’s the truth. The voice in her head has gotten quieter, but it’s still there, undoubtedly.

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

She’s barely spoken about Ezra to her therapist, instead choosing to focus on the psychological scars left behind by ‘A’. They’ve somehow seemed easier to deal with.

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“What about at the beginning? How did you two meet?”

Aria clears her throat. “We met at a bar.”

“Okay.”

“I was sixteen.”

“Oh—”

“He already knew who I was. He went after me.”

“Went… _after_ you?”

Aria flushes. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“How do you mean it?”

Aria feels her defenses rise, classical conditioning after so many years.

And then she looks at her therapist’s face, warm and genuine and trying to understand. Trying to help.

If someone had been there like this back then, Aria wouldn’t have let herself be saved. But now—

“Does it make me a terrible person?” she asks in a small voice. “If I still love him?”

“Not at all.”

“What if I hate him, too?”

“That’s perfectly fine as well. What’s important is that in hating him, you’re not hating yourself for being with him.”

Aria lets the tears fall. “I think maybe a little part of me does.”

“Okay.” Her therapist offers a reassuring smile. “We can work on that.”

Sometimes Aria wishes she could reach back in time, grab ahold of her younger self, and run. Get out of that town. Away from her parents, away from ‘A’. From Ezra.

She can’t, she knows that. All she do is be here for herself right now.

“I’m ready.”


	11. invisible string

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might be kind of a surprise that Spanna haven't shown up until now, because the two of them plus TSwift are kind of my thing. But never fear, I'm making up for it here in the back half of the album.

_**Time, mystical time** _

_**Cutting me open, then healing me fine** _

_**Were there clues I didn't see?** _

When Spencer gets the job in New York, she moves into an apartment three blocks from Hanna and Maddy’s.

Before long, the three of them are spending practically all their free time together. Walks through Central Park, afternoons at various exhibits: FIT for Hanna, the Met for Spencer, and American Girl Place for Maddy. Spencer takes Maddy to her first Broadway show. Hanna and Maddy introduce Spencer to all of the ridiculously trendy treats they’ve been sampling around the city.

Spencer becomes a regular fixture at Hanna’s design studio, and pretty soon her office is wallpapered with Maddy’s drawings. Her apartment floor is littered with glittery headbands and plush dogs. She has an overstuffed drawer of work clothes at Hanna’s.

By fall, Hanna decides they need a change. “This is ridiculous,” she tells Spencer. “We’re spending money on two apartments that we half-live in. Why don’t we just move in together?”

It makes sense, logistically. Even Caleb thinks it’s a good idea, and Maddy is ecstatic.

But Spencer feels her stomach swoop. Like she’s been teetering at the top of a rollercoaster, and this suggestion is nudging her toward the downward slope.

Because when they mention the idea to Aria, and Aria’s first question is, “What if one of you starts seeing someone?” Spencer recognizes that the thought hasn’t crossed her mind. Not in months, not since she got to New York.

Hanna fields it first: “We’re both too busy to date right now, anyway.”

It’s the truth, though the unspoken part is the fact that they’re busy with each other.

Overnight, it seems, Hanna and Maddy have become Spencer’s whole world.

It’s a world she can’t imagine losing, so she agrees to the move. As it turns out, the two of them are a really good team when it comes to apartment hunting. They find a large two bedroom that Hanna miraculously transforms into a charming three bedroom with office space for them both, just by rearranging the furniture and hanging a textile here or there. It’s more bohemian than Spencer’s typical style, but soon it feels just like home.

Takeout dinners during the week, with the occasional cooking adventure on a Sunday. Lazy Saturday breakfasts, with long walks on the warm days and movie marathons on the rainy ones. And sure, there are fights over dishes and laundry, but Spencer finds that she can’t stay mad at Hanna for long. Not when Hanna has invited her into this beautiful little life, has given her a family.

On Caleb’s weekends with Maddy, Spencer and Hanna tend to take things especially slow. One day Hanna comes home from work a little red-faced and sheepish.

“What’s up?” Spencer asks.

“So, someone at the shoot today gave me a thing…” she starts, opening her bag to reveal an artfully wrapped box of assorted pastries.

“Nice.”

“They’re full of pot,” Hanna replies. A grin cracks over her face. “Wanna try?”

Spencer only got high once or twice in college, well aware of her tendencies to self-medicate. But she’s in a better place than she’s been in for a very long time—possibly ever—and she can’t imagine a safer scenario for consuming a pot brownie than here in her own apartment with Hanna.

It doesn’t hit them for a while, and then it hits them all at once. Everything Hanna says is the funniest thing Spencer has ever heard. Hanna heaves with laughter at a comment that Spencer can’t even remember the second it leaves her lips.

Hanna wipes at her eyes, breathless. “Stop, stop! God, I have no abs left after Maddy, I’m gonna hurt myself.”

“You look amazing,” Spencer replies. She can feel her grip of control loosening slightly, the freedom dangerous and exciting. “You’re so beautiful.”

Hanna’s laughter dies down, and she hiccups. “Thanks, Spence. So are you.”

Spencer gets lost in Hanna’s eyes. She has to look away.

“I don’t…” Spencer rolls her lips together. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why would you lose me?”

Hanna is a glittering, perfect goddess, and Spencer’s brain feels like cotton candy. The emotion sways in her, heavy and real, but the words seem to float away like balloons into the sky.

“Because I—” Spencer tries, and then she sees what the next words would be. They arrange themselves in front of her, and she has to stop herself.

_Because I want you._

_Oh,_ she thinks. It all makes sense now.

She’s been quiet for what feels like forever—it could be years, could be a minute, time means nothing right now—but then Hanna is leaning forward.

It’s all flashes after the kiss. Swirls of heat and sweat and sensation. At one point, Spencer hears herself saying Hanna’s name over and over again, though she’s not sure if she’s speaking aloud or in her own head. It’s like by repeating the chant, she can make herself believe that they’re actually in this moment together, can scrapbook this memory to find later.

“Spencer, I—” Hanna rasps, after.

“I know,” Spencer replies, cutting her off before they tumble over yet another cliff together.

Spencer watches Hanna fall asleep, keeping her own eyes open for as long as possible.

She’s terrified that Hanna won’t remember in the morning, terrified that she herself will never forget.

By the time Hanna wakes up, Spencer is halfway back to Rosewood.


	12. mad woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after Sara's death in season 7. Some references to dubious consent. Also, I honestly can't remember the state of Jenna's blindness/the Liars' knowledge of her blindness at this point in season 7, and in general the way the show handled Jenna's disability was really problematic. For the purposes of this chapter, she is blind and Spencer knows it.

_**I'm taking my time, taking my time** _

_**'Cause you took everything from me** _

The Rosebud is quiet tonight.

Jenna isn’t surprised. Every sensible queer woman got out of this town long ago. Some by choice, some by…

She takes another sip of her drink, taps her fingers on the bar. All she wants to do is forget. To lose herself a little in a warm body, an eager mouth. Someone she can leave in the morning, instead of the other way around.

“Another, Jenna?” the bartender asks.

Jenna shakes her head. She can’t afford to let herself go completely. That option was taken away a long time ago.

She’s thinking about calling it a night when a familiar scent hits her. Expensive perfume, mixed with the stench of adrenaline.

“Hello, Spencer.”

She hears a sharp intake of breath, a muttered, “ _Shit.”_

“Come join me,” Jenna offers.

Spencer hesitates, then shuffles closer. The bar stool next to Jenna squeaks.

“Did you follow me?” Spencer asks in a tense whisper.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Spencer is quiet, and then Jenna gets it: Spencer isn’t on a mission tonight. Or if she is, it’s different from her usual sort. “Does Caleb know you’re here?”

Silence.

“And your friends?”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell them.”

Jenna laughs bitterly. “I’m sure you would.”

“I’m not here for—I’m just taking a look around.” Spencer winces. “Sorry.”

“Little late for that.”

Spencer sighs. “Caleb and I broke up.”

Jenna sips her drink. “That must be very hard for you. To lose someone you loved.”

“Jenna—”

“I happen to have some experience in that department.”

Spencer actually has the nerve to scoff. “You weren’t in love with Sara.”

Jenna flashes her teeth. “What would you do? To keep me from telling your friends that I saw you here tonight?”

The stench of fear gets stronger. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not doing anything.”

“But you wanted to. That’s why you showed up. You’re lonely, and instead of picking up some off-duty cop, you came to Rosewood’s only lesbian bar. Your friends might find that interesting. Your family, too.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“I’m just asking a question. Why do you care so much, Spencer? How far would you go?”

Spencer stands up, and for a split second Jenna actually thinks Spencer might smack her. But instead Jenna feels warm breath against the back of her neck. “The barn is—you could come there, if you want. Or we could go to your—” Her voice is shaking.

Jenna spins around on the bar stool, gripping Spencer’s chin before Spencer has time to react. “What kind of a monster do you think I am?”

Spencer’s hand covers Jenna, but she doesn’t make a motion to push her away. Suddenly Spencer is surging forward, kissing Jenna. She’s desperate and clumsy, and Jenna surprises herself by kissing back with equal intensity, nipping at Spencer’s lips before pulling away.

Spencer reels back, breathing hard. Jenna’s own pulse is racing, but she’s sure it’s no match for Spencer’s.

“I don’t want that,” Jenna says lowly. “Neither do you.”

“I thought—”

“I know what you thought.”

“Toby—”

“Toby knows that I regret what I did. I wouldn’t do that to anyone again, not even you.” Jenna shakes her head. “You bitches took everything from me.”

“I’m—”

“Save it, Spencer.” Jenna stands up, leaning in close. “You better get home before they notice you’re gone.”

As Jenna walks out, she can feel Spencer’s eyes on her the entire time.


	13. betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after some consideration, I decided to skip epiphany. That song is so specific to our current global circumstance, and it feels a little wrong to use it as the backdrop for some shippy PLL fic. 
> 
> Which brings us to betty, arguably the queerest song on a very queer album, and the inspiration for our longest chapter to date.

_**Betty, right now is the last time** _

_**I can dream about what happens when** _

_**You see my face again** _

_**The only thing I wanna do** _

_**Is make it up to you** _

“I slept with Toby,” is the first thing Spencer says when Emily opens the door.

Emily’s eyebrows shoot up, and she steps aside wordlessly.

Alison is standing there with her arms folded, having clearly just heard Spencer’s confession. “Are you—?” she starts.

“I’m not done,” Spencer continues, afraid that if she doesn’t admit it now she won’t admit it at all. “I slept with Toby after I slept with Hanna. And ran away.”

Emily’s mouth flies open, and Alison nods slowly.

“Okay,” Ali murmurs after a moment. “I’ll make up the guest room.”

An hour later finds Spencer tucked into the corner of Alison and Emily’s couch, swaddled in a blanket with a warm cup of coffee pressed against her palm. Emily sits tensely on the other side of the couch, leaning forward like a football coach unsure of the next move in the game.

Alison’s upstairs, working on the guest room. As always, it’s like she has a sixth sense of Spencer’s actions, a knowingness that Spencer hasn’t been ready to talk.

Until now. She slides her gaze over to Emily, nervous of the judgment she might see reflected back at her.

“Am I a terrible person?” she asks softly.

“Of course not.”

“Everywhere I go, I hurt people.”

“That’s not true.”

Spencer snorts. “You wanna know something really fucked up? When I got to Toby’s, he didn’t ask me anything, he just let me right in. But the whole time we were having sex, I knew he was trying to figure out if it was really me. Or if it was, y’know…”

“Alex,” Emily supplies.

“Yeah.”

“You’re right: that _is_ really fucked up.” Emily rakes a hand through her hair. “Does Hanna know you’re safe, at least?”

Spencer nods. Halfway through her train ride the worried texts started coming in. Spencer answered in as few words as possible, assuring Hanna that she was safe, that she just needed a few days to herself. Hanna’s replies nearly broke her heart in half:

_"I don’t regret it."_

_"I miss you."_

_"Please come home."_

All Spencer could muster in reply was: " _I’m sorry."_

“I don’t deserve her,” Spencer mutters through tears after relaying the text exchange to Emily.

Alison’s footsteps echo in the quiet house. She stands on the bottom stair, regarding Spencer. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Ali—” Emily whispers harshly.

“Hanna is more forgiving than all of us combined,” Ali continues, undeterred. “But she’s not afraid to stand up for herself. And those texts? They’re coming from a place of love, not anger.”

“She _should_ be angry with me. She should tell me to go fuck myself.”

Alison glides off the stairs and sits down in the chair opposite Spencer. “Why do you think you deserve that?”

“I ran away. I slept with someone else.”

“And why’d you do those things?” Ali asks.

Spencer doesn’t have the answer. All she knows is that seeing Hanna in that bed, she’d never been so full of terror and desire, all at once. It was like every feeling she’d tried to tamp down for her entire life was boiling over, messy and unrestrained. What could she do with all of that emotion besides screw everything up?

“I don’t want to lose her,” Spencer finally manages, her own words from that night reverberating in her head. “But I don’t know if we can go back.”

There’s a flash of eye contact between Emily and Alison.

“It’s really hard to go back,” Emily acknowledges.

Alison looks at Spencer squarely. “So, what are you gonna do?”

\---- 

Spencer gets up the courage to call Hanna a few days into her stay at Emily and Alison’s. It’s weird being here; she sort of feels like an overgrown teenager, especially as her friends move about their busy adult lives and Spencer is left to drift around the giant house that used to seem like such a fortress. But it beats staying at the barn, still overflowing with memories of Caleb and some of the hardest months of her life.

Spencer calls Hanna on a Monday, when all four other members of the household are at school. The phone rings for so long that Spencer is already anticipating Hanna’s cheery voicemail greeting, but then Hanna answers with a decidedly less cheery, “Hey.”

Spencer had words prepared, but they all fly away when she hears Hanna’s actual voice. “Hi. How are you?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

“Did you call me just to ask that question?”

“No.” She swallows, hard. “I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am. And—” God, she doesn't want to say the next part, but she _has_ to, she knows: “And I need to tell you that I slept with Toby.”

Hanna’s intake of air is so sad and sharp that Spencer’s eyes fill with tears. “Oh, I thought—oh. Are you guys—?”

“We’re nothing,” Spencer rushes to explain. “The reason I did it, well, it’s complicated, of course. It’s hard to...”

“Try.”

Spencer rubs at the tears accumulating on her cheeks. “I was scared of the way I feel. About you.”

“You could’ve talked to me about it.”

“I know, I should have.” Spencer sighs. “How’s Maddy?”

“She’s fine. She misses you, though.” Hanna takes a shaky exhale. “I’m scared of how I feel too, Spence. I don’t think we can go back. But with Maddy—I can’t have people in her life who run away.”

Spencer stifles a small sob. “I’m sorry.”

“What happens now?”

“I want to see you,” Spencer admits. “But I’m not sure—”

“We’ll be in Rosewood in a couple of weeks for my mom’s birthday. I’ll see you then.”

“Good.” Spencer’s chest flutters at the thought. “And after that?”

“I don’t know. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

It’s not a guarantee, but it’s more than she deserves.

“Okay.”

\----

Between the flurry of dinner and bedtime, Spencer doesn’t get to debrief her conversation with Hanna until the next morning.

“So?” Emily prompts, nudging a mug of coffee at Spencer.

“It was great to hear her voice,” Spencer replies. “She was hurt, of course. But she was also so…” She trails off, unable to find the words.

“What do you want?” Ali asks.

“I can't—”

“Try being honest. Just for a minute.”

Spencer’s eyes flutter closed, and when she opens them again, she lets herself see clearly. “I want a life with her. More than anything. But—”

“No buts,” Alison instructs. “Just truth.”

Spencer shakes her head, sipping her coffee. “This is so high school.”

Emily covers Ali’s hand with her own. “No, it’s the opposite of high school. That’s kind of the point. Time to stop running, Spence.”

\----

Spencer is already at her mom’s office when Veronica arrives, understandably shocked to see her daughter after nearly a year.

“Mom,” Spencer begins nervously, once the initial surprise has worn off. “I have something to tell you.”

Veronica’s expression shifts to one of concern. “What is it, honey?”

It’s like everything has led to this moment, a lifetime of pushing things down and making it all okay, of keeping a lid on who she is and what she wants, stolen glances and pretty lies and words left unsaid—

It’s all led to this second when Spencer announces, “I’m in love with Hanna.”

Veronica’s face goes on another journey, looping back to shock, then settling on a smile.

Spencer exhales.

“Well,” her mother replies, “I can’t think of a better match for you.”

\----

Spencer doesn’t just show up at Ashley’s party; Ashley invites her, though Spencer isn’t sure if it’s at the behest of Hanna or because Ashley is trying to do a little matchmaking on her own.

Either way, Spencer confirms with Hanna that she’s allowed to be here, reading way too much into the thumbs up emoji Hanna sends in reply.

Ashley answers the door for Spencer with a grin. “Hanna’s out back,” she says by way of greeting, then squeezes Spencer’s arm and whispers, “Good luck.”

Hanna is standing in the yard, looking so beautiful that Spencer gets breathless. She doesn’t smile, but her eyes light up when she sees Spencer.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d hug me or hit me,” Spencer confesses.

At that, Hanna offers a small laugh. “C’mon, you know hairspray is more my style.”

Spencer nods fondly, gathering her courage. “I, um, I came out to my mom.”

Hanna’s jaw jumps. “Really? What’d you say?”

There’s no point in holding the words back anymore. “I told her that I’m in love with you.”

Hanna’s glass drops from her hand, shattering against the patio.

Barry Maple, ten feet away, leans over, “Uh, Hanna, you dropped—”

Hanna doesn’t look away from Spencer. “Shut up.”

“You don’t have to say it back,” Spencer assures her, hearing the shake in her voice as her eyes once again fill with tears. “But I won't run away again, I promise, and I just—”

Hanna surges forward, wrapping her arms around Spencer’s neck and kissing her deeply. Spencer pulls her in close around the waist, letting herself go completely, to fall into the kiss and the feeling and _Hanna_ _._

When they pull apart, Spencer is a soggy, giddy mess. Hanna brushes her thumb along Spencer’s wet cheek.

“Of course I’m in love with you,” Hanna whispers. There's a distant chorus of cheering around them, but it barely registers. “Let’s go home, okay?”

Spencer nods emphatically and kisses Hanna again.

\----

On the train ride back to New York, Maddy sleeps between them, wearing Spencer’s cardigan.


	14. peace

_**But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm** _

_**If your cascade, ocean wave blues come** _

_**All these people think love's for show** _

_**But I would die for you in secret** _

Sometimes it boggles Hanna’s mind, a little, that she ended up here.

She’ll be warming up takeout for dinner after a long, grueling day, and then glance across the apartment to see Spencer patiently helping Maddy sound out words in a picture book. Or the two of them will be at a dinner party for Spencer’s job, and she’ll hear Spencer casually refer to Hanna as “my girlfriend.” Veronica Hastings sends Hanna an old family shortbread recipe to make for Spencer’s birthday. Maddy starts calling Jason her uncle.

Spencer has been Hanna’s family for as long as she can remember; the love they’ve had as best friends has been one of the most transformative relationships of Hanna’s life. But _this_ —this is different. Their lives have intertwined fully, deeply. When they can afford it, they move into a bigger apartment, and Spencer suggests they open a joint bank account, which Hanna declares is the grownup version of being Facebook official.

The weirdest part is just how incredibly normal it feels to do this with Spencer. Sure, they have fights, squabbles over little things and bigger arguments over important stuff. They’re both opinionated and can get a little hot-headed. But they’re able to talk it out, listen and forgive. Hanna figures that they’ve lived through enough life threatening situations to not sweat the small stuff.

And Hanna truly believes that they make each other better. When Melissa comes to visit their new place, she takes Hanna aside before dessert. Melissa has softened since she and Charlotte got married, but Hanna is still expecting some sort of talking to or passive aggressive remark.

Instead, Melissa actually smiles. “You better not mess this up,” she tells Hanna. “Because I’ve never seen Spencer so relaxed and happy.”

Hanna sees it, too, and she feels herself growing from Spencer’s strength. When someone on Hanna’s team is fired for sexual harassment and starts spreading lies about Hanna to the press, Spencer stays up all night with her drafting a public response, and is right there by Hanna’s side through the entire public fallout.

Afterward, the two of them take a trip together, while Maddy stays with Caleb. It’s winter, and they go to a ski resort upstate, though Hanna announces on day one that if she has her way, no skiing will be taking place.

“You, me, bed, room service,” she declares. “That’s my itinerary.”

“We could have done that at home,” Spencer points out.

“This is more scenic,” Hanna replies. “Besides,” she adds, stripping off her sweater and jeans to reveal the matching lingerie set she bought for the occasion. “Do you really want me to put a snowsuit on over this?”

Spencer offers no further arguments after that. They spend the most beautiful week together, eating, laughing, and having lots of sex. On their last day, they wander the property with big thermoses of spiked hot chocolate, talking about all their future plans.

Back in their room, Hanna presses a cold nose to Spencer’s warm cheek and whispers the words she’s been wanting to say for what feels like forever: “Do you wanna marry me?”

Spencer pulls back, an uncertain smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s not just the hot chocolate talking?”

“Absolutely not,” Hanna promises. “What do you say?”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears. “Well, I’ve been trying to choose between two Tiffany rings for you for almost a month. So, my answer is yes.”

Hanna kisses all over her face and Spencer holds her close. Then Hanna thinks of something. “Wait, since I asked first, does this mean I don’t get the ring?”

Spencer laughs, talking Hanna’s left hand in her own. “Baby, if it were up to me? You’d get the whole universe.”


	15. hoax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we come to our final chapter, a very depressing rumination on the state of Emison's marriage. Needless to stay (hopefully), this takes place in a Perfectionists-less world, as our world should have been.
> 
> Anyway, thanks, all, for reading! This has been such a fun project, and a great dive back into the fic world after a while away.

_**You know I left a part of me back in New York** _

_**You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?** _

_**You knew it still hurts underneath my scars** _

_**From when they pulled me apart** _

The question that is hard and bad but there, too often, is this: if Emily could go back and do it all again, would she?

Emily asked Spencer, once, right before Hanna and Spencer got married, whether she regretted dating Caleb. It was a late night, and Emily was just drunk enough to dance around the issue that she so often tried to ignore altogether.

“No,” Spencer replied, definitively. “I don’t know if Hanna and I would have gotten together if I hadn’t. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Emily answered, and that was the end of the conversation.

Later, she’d felt stupid for bringing it up. The similarities between her relationship with Alison and Spencer’s relationship with Caleb pretty much start and end with them being friends first.

But there’s a part of Emily that feels like if Spencer _had_ admitted regret, even in an offhanded way, it might have been the permission Emily needed to admit…the things she can’t admit.

Which is not to say that she regrets her life with Alison. How could she? They have two beautiful girls, steady jobs, the big DiLaurentis house. The white picket fence happy ending of Emily’s dreams. And she’s with _Alison._ God, fourteen-year-old Emily never would have let herself imagine such a life.

She loves Alison completely, loves her with a ferocity that takes her breath away. Emily knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d die for Alison, would march into battle for her.

But it’s the day to day that gets hard. When the stakes were high, there was no room for doubt. It was easy to pledge a future to Alison when the future wasn’t guaranteed. It was easy to swear to protect Alison when protection was something Ali needed and something Emily was good at giving. Life on the run? They could make it work; Emily was always a fast runner.

It’s the standing still she can’t handle.

Her head starts to swirl late at night sometimes. Should she have followed Paige out of that bar? Maybe they could've been happy together in Iowa. Or would Emily have gotten bored there, too, and spent her nights wondering about life with Sabrina in Atlanta?

“I love you,” Alison tells her, over and over, the words Emily once longed to hear from her. But now Emily doesn’t hear them clearly; they sound like shackles.

_I love you, so you can’t leave._

_I love you, which is what you always wanted._

_I love you, why isn’t that enough?_

When they first got married Emily was surprised by the thought that Alison was still an enigma to her. Emily worried that she’d never be able to trust Ali fully, that parts of Ali would always feel like a stranger.

About a year in Emily realized she was wrong. Alison wasn’t an enigma, not really. She wasn’t that hard to know. It was that Emily wanted her to be. Emily found herself looking for shadows and mystery, craving the chase, only to find Alison ready to give her everything.

Eventually the dam breaks. “You’re not talking to me,” Alison points out one day. “What’s wrong?”

Emily isn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m not happy,” she’s finally able to admit.

“Is it that you’re not happy, or that you don’t think you deserve to be happy?” Ali replies. The line is so crisply delivered that Emily knows Alison’s rehearsed it, probably with her therapist.

“Maybe both,” Emily offers.

“Come to therapy with me. Please.”

Emily’s never been able to resist Alison asking her for something, so they go. It doesn’t fix their problems. If anything, it makes things worse, at least for a little while. She and Alison go from not talking to fighting about everything.

The therapist makes a recommendation, that Emily seek individual counseling.

“You think I’m crazy,” Emily comments when he makes that suggestion.

“No, I think you’ve been through a lot. And you haven’t gotten an opportunity to process most of it yet.”

One night when she and Alison are lying side by side, Emily says the words she’s been terrified to say: “I don’t know if we should stay married.”

Alison rolls to face her, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know if we should, either.”

Seeing Ali’s tears, Emily lets herself cry for the first time in ages. “I…I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Alison doesn’t ask what she means by that, she just nods.

“I never thought we’d get our chance, y’know?” Ali finally murmurs. “I don’t want to waste it.”

“Me neither,” Emily agrees.

“I love you,” Alison says, and this time Emily hears the words as they are: the truth that they both spent so long hiding from.

“I love you, too.”

Emily takes Alison’s hand, kisses each knuckle in turn.

Before long their daughters will come bounding in, complaining of a bad dream or not enough blankets on their beds. Emily and Ali will tuck the girls in beside them, stroking baby soft hair until Grace and Lily drift off. Emily will wake up too early, will make coffee while Ali gets the girls dressed for school.

The world won’t wait for them to figure this out; time will march on and soon they’ll have to talk, they’ll have to figure this out. For once in their lives the future stretches out in front of them, and it’s so beautiful and so terrifying, all at once.

But tonight they love each other. And it isn’t everything, but right now, it is enough.


End file.
